


The Idea Of Roots

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural



Series: Half Of You [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Samifer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:46:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam helps Lucifer create his own garden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Idea Of Roots

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This is fan-run and this writer is not officially affiliated with the CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., and other official affiliates tied to the TV Show "Supernatural." This user does not claim ownership to the official content of Supernatural and does not seek profit off of the work produced presently. Plagiarism of this current story will not be tolerated and will be reported following AO3's terms of services. The stories, additional characters I create, are mine. This story was not created for profit. Making profit is deemed copyright infringement unless sanctioned by copyright holders (i.e. CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., etc.). Copyright infringement can range from paying a fine to actual jail time. Please do not claim this story as yours! Please do not sell this story! Please do not reproduce this story! All violators will be reported and dealt with severely! 

It’s been a week since Sam stepped out of the bunker, but Dean has been begging for the past hour to take Lucifer outside. Apparently the archangel has been going stir crazy for the past couple of days, feral and moody in a passive aggressive manner that scared the living shit out of Dean. Being stared down by the Devil himself as he replies to his questions with macabre responses is freaky. The fact he takes his sweet ass time saying them doesn’t _help_ diminish the freaky factor.

It’s only a matter of time before he wakes up with Lucifer holding a kitchen knife over his throat quoting One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest: ‘The world news might not be therapeutic.’ 

Sam has been occupied with his own work and picking at lore, Lucifer left to his own devices that led to quick boredom. Dean thinks Lucifer has been itching to ask Sam to give him solutions or provide entertainment but the archangel is too polite to bother Sam over nonsensical matters. So he sulked and hissed, an annoyed feline curling in the armchair and itching to go outside. 

Sam finds Lucifer doing just that, curled into the armchair and frowning at the armrest. 

“Lucifer?” Sam breaks the silence, the archangel pulling into attention and troubled expression instantly melting into something warm. There’s something about the open and earnest light crafting his features that makes Sam’s chest tight. “Do you want to do some shopping with me?” 

The archangel gives a nod, murmuring a quiet, “Yes, I’d like that.” 

Sam has to help Lucifer with the seatbelt, the archangel baffled and gazing at the contraption as if it may attack him in any given moment. It’s a sight having to walk to the passenger’s seat and show the archangel how to buckle his seatbelt. Curiosity wins Lucifer’s tongue, asking of the entirety of the car and the reason he must be constrained to his seat. Sam can’t help but laugh when Lucifer stares reproachfully at the dashboard when told an airbag will burst forth in an accident.

The archangel seems unsure what to do with his hands so he folds it neatly on his lap, soon lost in the passing scenery out the window. Sam fights off the urge to chuckle when Lucifer’s fingers touch the glass, as if trying to grab the passing tree with his fingers. 

The blond shifts uncomfortably whenever Sam turns his blinker on, the hunter briefly distracted at the sight of hips pushing against the seatbelt before easing back down.

“Confining,” Lucifer concludes when they finally park. “Castiel was right,” he turns his head to Sam who is arching a brow in amusement. Lucifer fiddles with his seatbelt, tugging at the buckle in annoyance. Sam is quick to undo the seatbelt, Lucifer sighing in relief and eagerly pushing out of the car. 

The archangel squints at the title of the building, wondering why there was a depot for homes? “Home Depot,” he huffs, turning to Sam who gently knocks his shoulder into his. “Why are we here? Do you not have a home already?” he curiously inquires and Sam is back into a fit of bright laughter, motioning for him to walk with him.

“It’s… It’s just a title, really. But this is a store that sells things that can help refurnish a home, build a home and maintain a home. Think construction supplies,” Sam explains as they move inside, watching the archangel stare at the unbelievably tall shelves. “So they have lights over there, chairs, tiles… Pretty much everything. But that’s not what we’re here for,” Sam’s finger is pointing at the different aisles and Lucifer is momentarily transfixed at the sea of lights hanging from the ceiling to his left. 

“Come on, I think it’s over here,” Sam turns to his right and starts to walk in the direction, the archangel quietly keeping up. 

A pleased sound leaves Lucifer when he finds himself staring at neatly arranged tables of potted plants and soil. 

“So I was thinking that maybe you could make your own garden outside…” Sam begins, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, “I know how much you love them, figured you’d like to make your own…” Blue eyes are watching him silently, corner of the archangel’s mouth curling upward and Sam, suddenly, cannot meet his gaze. He stares at the potted plants intently, suddenly feeling embarrassed. 

“Thank you, Sam. I’d like that a lot,” Lucifer murmurs, Sam giving a grunt in response, scratching at the back of his neck. He watches the angel move toward the plants, smiling to himself as he brushes the pad of his fingers across the rim of each plastic pot. 

“I’ll get a cart. I have a feeling we won’t be able to carry everything,” Sam calls out and Lucifer nods, idly letting his fingers slip into the moist soil. It’s only after a moment does he turn his head, watching Sam grow smaller and smaller. Carefully picking up a potted peony, the deep shades of pink a colorful contrast to its yellow and green brothers and sisters, he holds it close to his chest as he examines the other potted buds. 

Sam comes back, giving an exasperated sound at Lucifer. The archangel already has fingers stained with dirt and holding four potted plants in his arms. “Peonies,” Sam states, carefully plucking the potted flowers out of Lucifer’s arms and placing it in the cart. They sit in the brown cart like sore thumbs, but Lucifer admires them from where he’s standing. He wasn’t sure why he thought it was humorous and baffling to see Lucifer with something that stood for something along lines of romantic relationships. He can’t remember exactly what it is, but he lets a brow rise at the flowers. Sam snorts in amusement at them. “Thought you’d be into the whole…roses deal. You know thorn thing going on,” Sam teases gently, Lucifer awarding him with a simple smile. 

“I am, also, very fond of them,” he replies and Sam gives a ‘hmph’ in response. “Do you not like peonies?” Lucifer asks him curiously and Sam only shrugs his shoulders. He never really thought about what flower he may be fond of. Just never seemed necessary or important anymore since Jess passed. Even now he draws a blank; flowers are just flowers. 

“They’re okay. Not really my thing — oh, speaking of, I should get you some mulch. I’ll go grab it,” Sam responds, eyeing an aisle behind Lucifer. He leaves the archangel frowning quietly at the bright flowers sitting in the cart. It annoys the Devil that they’re sitting there and more so annoyed at himself for feeling disappointed. 

The archangel decides the flowers look burdensome and tacky, pulling them from the cart and placing them back where he found them. He can’t imagine placing them in any garden of his anymore. 

The two of them leave the store with the Impala smelling of mulch, soil and the faint sweet scent of a few nonsensical flowers. Lucifer holds on to the bag of assorted seeds he picked out, keeping his eyes focused on the window and listening to the radio sing lowly throughout the drive. 

“So,” Sam begins when even the silence begins to make him shift uncomfortably in his seat, “What’s the plan?” 

Lucifer stares silently at the bag on his lap before giving a thoughtful hum, “It is going to be too late in the day for me to make any real progress. I will keep the plants inside with me for tonight. Tomorrow morning I’ll wake up early… I’d like to get the potted ones planted.” 

Sam eyes the seated plants in the backset, smiling to himself at the way Lucifer fussed over putting a seatbelt over them. The archangel was beaming when he buckled the plants in successfully, proudly buckling himself in before they headed back to the bunker. But he doesn’t spy the peonies anywhere, instead replaced with white anemones and bright red poppies. 

“You want me to help you?” Sam offers, glancing over at the blond who briefly meets his stare. Sometimes it bothers the hunter how unreadable Lucifer can be. How his face can be a blank and neutral slate despite the absence of Grace, swearing it was just an angel quirk. Lucifer turns his head back to the window, fingers threading through each other over the plastic bag on his lap.

“I’d like that,” he finally replies and the drive falls back into silence, the two quietly parting ways once they brought all their shopping in. 

Lucifer doesn’t find Sam awake in the bunker when he makes his way outside the following morning.

Dean lends a hand in moving the supplies outside with a cup of coffee in hand, mumbling something along the lines of ‘if this will take the stick out of your ass.’ Lucifer isn’t too sure. It’s hard to understand the hunter when his voice is thick with sleep and mouth regularly moving to pin itself back onto the steaming mug. 

The angel waits for a few minutes, staring expectantly at the door before nodding in acceptance. Rolling his sleeves, frowning intently throughout the action, he begins in plotting out how big he wants this garden to be. The earth looks perfect, not dry and brittle but rich and available. Despite the knowing ache that sits on the lump trapped in his throat, he can’t fight the excitement of being able to create something that is truly his own. He picked these seeds. He picked this earth. This is his garden and the notion of something growing under his tutelage is exhilarating. It seems rebellious all in its own and it pulls a watered-down laugh from his mouth.

Crouching down to tug on a stubborn weed, he hears the door close. 

Sam’s voice follows after, “Hey, I think you forgot these guys in the car last night.” 

Lucifer looks up to see the bright colored peonies in Sam’s arms. The blond remains crouched and in a stupor at the sight before him. It takes a moment to get back to his feet, at a loss of what to say because Sam drove back to get the peonies. Lucifer is momentarily confused at the sensation of his ribs feeling expanded, but he ignores it despite the itch to jab at them with his fingers. There are the four peonies, the exact ones he picked yesterday. Lucifer ducks his head, as if to regain his composure, a smile burning itself on his lips. 

“I’d really hate to see these ones go…” Sam’s voice is closer and the peonies have been deposited on the ground next to him. “Think there’s room for them?” Sam’s smiling at him and it’s contagious, his own lips pulling wider.

“Yes… Yes, there is.”

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Peonies:**  
>  _Often associated with healing, healing in relationships, peace, romance and often used in weddings for symbolizing a happy marriage._


End file.
